


Deeper Into The Mystic

by thebisexualbanshee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, M/M, Season 11, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchester - Freeform, cas, castiel - Freeform, into the mystic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebisexualbanshee/pseuds/thebisexualbanshee
Summary: Dean deals with thoughts about Castiel after working a Banshee case.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is based on the events of Season 11 Episode 11, "Into The Mystic," and takes place in the last 7-ish minutes of that episode. I use some of the real dialogue from the show. The majority of this little fluff piece takes place in Dean's head.

"Darlin', if there is one thing I've learned from all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else." --Mildred Baker

  


He should say something. Dean should probably say something, anything, to keep from making the uncomfortable faces he knows he's making. But he doesn't. Luckily, Mildred keeps talking, rambling on about following his heart, not knowing who the "lucky lady" is, not knowing the imagined lady isn't a lady at all.  
  
"Well, I am single, and I am ready to mingle, so..." is what he manages to verbalize.  
"You know where I live," Mildred answers.  
"Yeah," Dean laughs, internally thankful they've finally made it across the lot to Sam and Eileen. While they chat, Dean tries his best to look interested in the little attempts at sign language Sam is making at Eileen. He has the fleeting thought that a girl like her could make his little brother happy, but that twists back on itself like those thoughts always do. Hunters don't get to be that kind of happy. And yet, Dean thinks he feels that kind of happy, but only when Cas is--  
  
_No, no way,_ his mind cuts him off, cycling through any and every other thought he can muster to drown out the sound of the blue-eyed angel's name. _Sam's talking to Eileen. Eileen is deaf but reads lips. Come on Eileen, I swear, well he means at this moment, you mean everything, you in that dress..._  
  
"Alright, well you boys stay out of trouble," Mildred chirps, bringing Dean back to the present.  
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he answers, sighing out a laugh. Sam smiles at Eileen again, but Dean starts a decided stride toward the Impala before anything can start up again. His stomach is twisting and he just wants to get back home. The whole drive--all fifteen minutes of it--he's thinking of Cas, but he doesn't want to be. Thinking about finding him going through files in the bunker. Thinking about how much more carefree he had looked, even in the midst of research, without his trenchcoat, with his sleeves rolled up, and how tan his forearms somehow were even though they're usually--  
  
Again, he shuts down those thoughts. Starts singing to himself quietly instead.  
  
"Come on Eileen, I swear, well he means, at this moment..."  
"Seriously?" Sam interrupts, snorting a laugh.  
"What? It's a classic," Dean defends.  
"You say that about everything," Sam answers, shaking his head.  
"Do not. Shut up," Dean replies. Sam laughs once more and shakes his head, giving his attention to his phone the rest of the way home.  
  
***  
  
When they arrive, Dean tries to play it cool, but the first thing he does is brush past Sam on the stairs to get to the file room first, mumbling something to Sam about checking to see if Cas had stayed, to grab him a beer, he'd be back in a minute. When he arrives to find the mess Castiel left but no more Castiel, his stomach drops. _Of course he isn't still here,_ Dean thinks. _Why would he be? Not like there's any other research. And he's not going to stay to hang out. Not at a time like this. God, stop being such a girl about it._  
  
Instead, he starts mechanically tidying the scattered papers, filing them methodically away. _Why does he get me in these funks?_ He queries of himself, letting his thoughts run unobstructed in his newfound privacy. _I've never been into dudes. What makes him so special? I mean--maybe technically, Cas ain't a dude. Just a celestial whatever in a dude's body. That doesn't make me gay, right? Nah, come on. Cas is like a brother. He's like Sam. Except I never notice Sam's forearms, or get stuck looking into his eyes, or--damnit, Dean, cut that shit out. The beer's gonna get warm._  
  
Dean abandons the rest of the files in a huff, slamming down the folder he was working on. The force is enough to undo the work he'd done, sending the papers fluttering to the floor. Dean walks out anyway. He's glad he's paying attention when he makes it to the kitchen, because Sam tosses him a beer over his shoulder.  
  
"Cas gone?" Sam's voice cuts through his thoughts.  
"Yeah, guess so," Dean answers, doing his best to sound nonchalant.  
"What was he doing here anyway?" Sam asks.  
"Looking for lore on the Darkness," Dean replies. He cracks open his beer, and before he can stop himself, he adds, "Something's a little off about him, too." Damnit, Sammy, don't pick up on that. Don't pick up on that.  
"Something always seems a little bit off about Cas," Sam scoffs. Dean visibly relaxes, but tries to play it cool again with a shrug. Sam continues, much to Dean's relief, "Ah, you know, being so close to Lucifer probably wasn't so easy on him either."  
Sam keeps talking, and Dean is pretty sure he's giving the right answers, but his mind is far away with the Angel of Thursday.  
  
***  
  
That night, Dean can't sleep. He tells himself it's the ringing in his ears, left over from the Banshee earlier in the day. He could just throw on some headphones and drown it out with music, like he told Sam he would. But he doesn't. He tries to think about the Darkness and her strange hold on him--but that only prompts thoughts of guilt: Her hold is nothing like Cas's. It isn't real. It's a mind game. With Cas it's something--else. But is it the same for Cas? Because he never seems to have any problem disappearing.  
  
Dean sighs and kicks off the covers, sitting up in bed. He rubs his hands over his face and tries to soothe the too-loud thrumming of his heartbeat. He tries to focus on the ringing in his ears, but it brings him back, inevitably, to an empty gas station where, years ago, a not-so-different sound blew out the windows because a blue-eyed angel was trying to tell Dean his name.


End file.
